


Teach Me How to Feel

by TheGirlWhoDiedWolf



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Gay, Gay Robots, M/M, Rich Frank Iero, Robot Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9726674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWhoDiedWolf/pseuds/TheGirlWhoDiedWolf
Summary: It is the year 2033 and nobody has seen Frank Iero in over four years. At least, not outside of a holographic projection or a computer screen...In which Frank Iero is a neurotic businessman who works from home and has detached himself from humans and the outside world.In which Gerard Way is on the run and ends up in the hands of a man whom he may just make or break.{Frerard}{Petekey}~ A Utopian AU ~+ Robots * Friendships * Love +





	1. New Arrival (Part 1)

 

**One: Frank**

_Ding_

_..._

_Dong._

A pause. There was a pause between the doorbell. Like the person who had rung it was being hesitant and cautious, yet they still had the audacity to venture all the way to my doorstep. Like they had read the multitude of fucking signs i'd left all down my driveway; at the gates, the front garden, on the entrance of my fucking house and completely fucking ignored them.

_No trespassers, loiterers, advertisements, or unauthorised personnel. Failure to comply will result in prosecution. You have been warned._

I wasn't an idiot. I recognised that this obsessive behaviour would make me, the owner of the place, seem like some crazed, neurotic bastard. That was what I was going for, though. Couldn't people take a fucking hint?

I sighed in annoyance, shoving my hand through my black hair and sneering at the fact that it was greasy. I hadn't showered in three days. That was a record as far as it went for me. Mind you, it wasn't wintertime; the cold always brought the OCD out in me. I always showered once every morning because that was my routine and I liked routine. I have mild germophobia too, but let's not go into all my issues right now. I'd rather keep everything neatly tucked in the back of my head, as it should be. I'd rather not feel or think too hard about things that I don't need to dwell on. My issues are my issues and I have learned to accept them because they aren't going away anytime soon.

I blinked and rubbed at my tired eyes. Today was my day off in a long while. I was going to spend it drinking coffee and contemplating in bed. I had no work to worry about for today and I best of all, no fucking people.

But of course, _something_ had to come up and ruin it for me. I sighed again, deeper and more drawn out as I turned on my side and stared at the camera monitor on the far wall of my bedroom. I squinted, unable to see toward such a distance, and grabbed my glasses and remote from my bedside table before shoving the former onto my nose and using the latter to switch on the screen.

As soon as my eyes adjusted to the image on screen, they lit up and I felt the drowsiness knock itself from my body, replaced instead by a mixture of anxiety and excitement; not a good combo. I nibbled on the inside of my lip, wincing when I ran my tongue over broken skin. I chewed through my mouth enough last night while on a conference call to my staff discussing about investments and other boring shit i'd rather not think about.

...because my package had arrived.

Fuck yeah.

I couldn't help the smile that made itself present on my lips, my cheeks tightening uncontrollably and burning with slight heat.

I scrambled up from my bed and started, unthinkingly, towards my bedroom door when I passed my floor length mirror and was hit by another wave of anxiety, my palms sweating as I turned to look myself over.

Greasy, black hair. Glasses askew. Stained, black shirt. Five o'clock shadow. Boxers currently giving me a wedgie; i'd lost weight recently and they were hanging loose and got all up in my ass. I had ordered some new ones online but they had yet to arrive.

Next day delivery my fucking ass.

Incompetent bastards.

I would send them a very passive aggressive email, but the problem was that I was not very good at confrontation. Not in my personal life. When it came to work I did what I had to, but anything outside of that and I was completely lost.

The point was, I looked disgusting. I couldn't go to the door. Not dressed like this. Fuck.

The postman would see me. He would think I was a hermit or something. He'd take one look at me and not believe that I owned this house. He'd think I was some homeless man who broke in and that was why I refused to show myself in public and insisted on doing everything behind a screen.

 _No. Stop this._ I scolded myself. I was doing it again. That ridiculous irrational overthinking thing. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I furrowed my brows at myself, fists tightening by my sides. Wait, why the fuck was I going to the door? I could just program Jarvis to get it for me. You'd think it would be hard to miss the fact that you owned a bunch of robots that did whatever the hell you programmed them to do for you.

But then again, my butler Jarvis hardly ever did what he was told. Nobody did, really. Not since i'd programmed them all to act... like _not_ robots. The whole commanding them to do what I wanted, even though they are inanimate beings, sometimes freaked me out. I left the whole commanding people thing at work. I needed these guys to be my friends. I needed friends. People that aren't human. Humans fuck things up. Humans aren't perfect; not in the way I want them to be.

My staff act like humans. They act like perfect humans. Humans that I could get along with. That I would never need to doubt myself around or feel the need to be validated by, because they didn't give a fuck about dumb shit like that. About societal standards and _feelings_ and things. They just... Existed as they were made to exist. And they never judged me. They loved me. At least, the robot version of love; whatever that is. Love.jpeg, Bob called it. I don't know why the coding for love is an image file to him, but I never really questioned whatever he said. I usually just went along with things as they were and pretended to know what the fuck they went on about.

I groaned to myself as I pushed open my bedroom door. I cleared my throat, this being the first time I used my voice today and it was past 12PM.

"Jarvis!" I called out. "Get the fucking door. Please." I added on the last bit as an afterthought.

No reply. I knew he was ignoring me. I rolled my eyes at him and tried again. "Jarvis, get your ass to the front door or i'll pull out your battery pack, don't test me this time." I frowned, foot tapping the floor and arms crossed over my chest in a show of impatience.

"For _fuck's_ sake, Jarvis, i'm not in the mood for this shit. Get the door or i'm locking up the coke supply in the fridge and you won't be able to get your hands on it for as long as I deem an appropriate amount of time for punishing you."

I smirked to myself when I heard the slamming of a door and quick thuds, his figure rounding the landing from his room which was situated across and down the right of the second floor from my own room.

He stopped as soon as he saw me, arms crossed to mimic my pose, brown eyes narrowed accusingly. "You wouldn't dare, master Frank."

"Oh, would I not?" I challenged him, my smirk growing as I watched his lip twitch in annoyance. It didn't even deter me anymore how human-like all their actions were. But there were the dead giveaways, too. Like the fact that they had an opening, right where the bellybutton should be. The wire plugged into the opening and batteries were recharged by attaching them to the wall. I had programmed them to plug themselves in and recharge every night for the sole fact that i'm a lazy fucker.

Another giveaway though, was the fact that they all seemed to have some sort of crazy obsession with coca cola. I had no idea why, but as long as you had a healthy supply of coke in your house, they would do anything for it. It was quite amusing, actually.

"You know very well, master Frank, that I go by the name of _Raymond_ now." He pursed his lips, eyes unwavering in their narrowed state. "With all due respect, you said we could pick our own names. I chose Raymond. I would be much obliged, sir, if you started referring to me by my chosen name."

I shook my head. "I like Jarvis. It makes me feel like Iron Man."

He blinked at me. "Of course, sir." He took a deep breath, almost like a massive sigh, and slumped his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion. "I feel demeaned, really."

"How is that even possible?" I raised my brow. "Your feelings aren't real because you're not real. I could call you dick-faced cum rag for all I care and you wouldn't feel shit because _you're. Not. Real._ Now go get the damned door, Jarvis." I flicked my wrist at him.

He blinked at me, that stupid blank look on his face. The one he got for a split moment as he processed how to respond to what I had said. He had finally figured something to say and opened his mouth, but I propped my finger in the air before silencing him with one word. "Coke."

He stopped what he was about to say, mouth closing shut with a sort of desperate look in his eyes, before he swiftly turned and made his way down the stairs.

I grinned as I watched him open the door from the landing. He was smiling sweetly at the nervous looking postman and signed something off before waving him off with his hand. Jarvis hauled the human-sized package into the house and as soon as the door shut behind him, I was already halfway down the stairs, legs pumping as I excitedly ran into the foyer to join them.

"He's here. Fuck, okay. I- _shit_ , I need a shower. Fuck, there's no time for that. I need to... I should have put some clothes on." I stared down at my pale, tattooed thighs that were on full display and the pulled at my shirt, sneering at myself.

I felt a hand shove into my side and I jumped, startled.

"Get a grip, man. You look like a crazy person. Mind you, when do you not?" Bob smirked at me, having appeared from thin air. He had the uncanny ability to do that. For a machine, he was surprisingly light-footed.

I flipped him off and his smirk dropped at the gesture. "I'm sorry, my sensors do not compute gestures. Please use your words." He spoke in a scarily robotic voice and I was taken aback for a moment, before I realised from the grin that followed that he was joking.

Cheeky fucker.

"Fuck you, how's that?" I stuck my tongue out at him and he went to respond when we were interrupted by another presence.

"Good morning Frankie! I presume this is the order you made last week. The new addition to our home that you were really nervous about. Well go on, open it!" Ryan emerged in his dinosaur onesie, hands clapping together as he wandered toward the group, bright-eyed and blinking, lips parted in a toothy smile.

"Why are you still in your nightwear? Aren't you supposed to be making me breakfast, mister?" I chided him and he drew into himself, smiling sheepishly at me, cheeks tinting pink ever so slightly. 

"Sorry Frankie, you told us last night not to disturb you because you wanted to lie in. I thought i'd wait until I heard you leave your room for your morning shower or something." Ryan shrugged.

Fair enough.

I turned back towards the package and gripped the zipper, having grown impatient. I smiled to myself as I pulled the zipper down, remembering how this was hauled in by one of those toe sack trucks or whatever they're called. It reminded me of the scene from _Silence of the Lambs_ , where Hannibal is hauled out to meet Clarice outside of the cell with the mask and straitjacket. Except this wasn't a psychopath with cannibalistic tendencies. It was a bot in one of those zip-up body bags.

He was an impulse buy; I wasn't going to lie.

I had never owned a sex bot before. At least, a bot that had any sort of programming for stuff like this. The bots I owned were first generation. I decided it was time for an upgrade and it was getting kind of lonely in here. But if I was being honest, Brendon was the one who had convinced me to do this.

Not that the whole reason I bought him was for sex... That would be, like, creepy. Just, for some reason, the fact that that was something I had read in his description came to mind at the time, although I don't know why. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't been with anyone- not like _that_ anyway, in... Fuck, in _years_.

What a scary thought.

I shook it off. I wasn't going to take advantage of him. I was-

What the _fuck_.

What the fucking fuck.

I pulled the zipper down the rest of the way and watched as the bag dropped to the ground, crumpling around the bot's feet.

This was _not_ what I ordered. I'm pretty fucking positive this was not what I ordered.

I blinked at the bot before turning toward Ryan.

"Where the hell is Brendon?" I spoke, my tone as level as I could keep it.

"Present!"

Speak of the devil. He came sauntering down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes as though he was tired. He stretched and yawned as he jumped the last step, arms outstretched over his head. He let out a groan of contentment before I gripped his arm, yanking him to stand in front of the new arrival.

I gestured with my arm towards it, brows raised in question and Brendon followed with his eyes until they landed on the bot who looked as though he was asleep.

"Urh... Yeah?" Brendon shrugged, blinking at me as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Please tell me i'm not _actually_ going crazy and that this is _not_ what I placed an order for last week. This..." I turned back to the bot, having overcome my momentary stupefaction from not recognising it immediately, to actually take it in.

My sentence caught in my throat as its eyes blinked open.

*******

 


	2. New Arrival (Part 2)

 

** Two: Gerard **

I opened my eyes. It was like an impulse thing; I couldn't help it. The panic started setting in because, what the fucking hell was I supposed to do? He knew I wasn't what he had ordered.

But the entire journey here, I had been careful. So fucking careful not to make a move. Not to make a single sound. To just pretend.

And i'd been running over and over what I was going to do; what I was going to _say_ once I got here.

And as soon as my eyes opened, the wind got knocked out from me.

I was greeted by a man. A man shorter than myself, I could tell even from my elevated platform against this little truck trolley thing; I had no idea what they were called. But it made me feel like Hannibal in Silence of the Lambs, the way I was strapped against the metal behind me so I wouldn't fall off.

I couldn't take my eyes off the man, though. It was not at all what I had expected, but then again, what _had_ I been expecting?

Some rich family? I don't know.

I blinked down at him, my lips parted in surprise. He just watched me in complete silence. I don't know what that expression on his pretty face meant.

He did have a pretty face, I observed. He has a small, curved nose, rounded at the tip and tinged pink. Black framed glasses sat atop the bridge of his nose, accentuating his eyes. He had really pretty eyes. From this close up, I could see the golden-brown flecks amidst the green pools of light, glinting from behind the lens. The eyes were lidded slightly; it gave him a carefree sort of look. Like he didn't take things too seriously. I couldn't decide whether it made him look bored or tired, probably a mixture of both. He seemed like the kind of person that you'd need to work at keeping the interest of.

I trailed my eyes down his face, resting them on his small, pouty lips. They looked so soft, and slightly red. Had he been kissing someone? Or maybe- no, he'd been nibbling at them. He was nervous. Why was he nervous?

He had a small chin, soft and rounded, yet kind of pointed and shaded with a tiny bit of scruff. He had a sort of heart shaped face, which really contrasted with the scruff, yet he pulled it off so well. His hair was all askew, as though he'd just pulled himself out of bed, and that was when I realised he was wearing an old t-shirt and boxers. Maybe he had. I couldn't help the blush that tinted my cheeks as I quickly returned my eyes to his face, trying not to let my gaze linger too long on his tattooed thighs; that'd be creepy. Besides, my lips were dry and I felt the terrible urge to lick at them and if i'd done that whilst looking at his thighs, he would probably get the wrong idea.

I couldn't bring myself to look into his eyes again so I settled on his messy bed-hair.

I bet if I reached out and ran my fingers through it, it'd be really soft. I didn't know why I felt the urge to do that. My fingers twitched at my sides so I fisted them, trying to get my mind off the pretty man in front of me.

All I could say was, despite the fact that this situation was so less than ideal, I was kind of glad for the fact that I hadn't been shoved in with some family.

I needed to speak. I needed to tell him what had happened... Maybe he'd understand.

Or maybe he'd call the fucking cops and rat me out and i'd get thrown into some dingy, underground prison.

Fuck, what do I say? What do I do?

When I was finally able to tear my gaze from the man, who was looking at me quite intently as though he was taking me in and sizing me up, but for what; only God knew, I realised that we weren't alone.

He had friends. I blinked at them all, taking them in. They were just staring at me with blank expression. Jesus fucking Christ, you'd think they were all bots or something.

As pretty as he was, there was no way I could hang around here. There was nowhere for me to go, really, especially since I had no idea where I even _was_. What would I do once I got out?

Fuck knew. It was a case of act first, think later.

I turned back to the man, still unable to find my voice, when suddenly he reached out. I noted the fact that his fingers were tattooed and an image flashed through my mind where our hands were interlocked, if only so I could note the major contrast between his ink and my pale, unmarked hands. I could only stare at the tattoos as he reached towards me, unable to take my eyes off them. They were sort of entrancing to look at. I traced and retraced the outlines as he moved, wanting to burn the image into my mind. It was rare that you ever saw rich, tattooed people in this world. It was usually the poor, street rats like me.

This man was fucking intriguing, to say the least.

I didn't know what he was doing and it hadn't even registered until it was already happening, that the man had the pads of his fingertips pressed against the face.

And all I could do was stare, my lips parting with unspoken words. I could feel the heat rising in my face as he smoothed his fingers down my jaw. I grit my molars together to hold back a shiver at the feeling because his fingers were calloused. But he was rich; he probably hadn't done a day's work in his life. Why were his fingers calloused?

I could only gulp as he smoothed his fingers down my exposed neck, before bringing them back up to grip my chin with his thumb and forefingers, so delicately, as though I would snap if he held on too tight.

"Jesus, even you guys don't feel this real." He whispered, his voice slightly hoarse and fuck, I could feel my knees tremble at the sound, the way it had a sort of throaty undertone. It went right through me, but in the best way possible.

I could sit and listen to him talk all fucking day.

"Whoa." He murmured, so close now that his breath was fanning my face and I scrunched my nose up because _morning breath_. Yikes. A deal breaker, usually. But with a face that pretty, I could totally let him off just this once.

He smiled at me, having forgotten altogether that I wasn't what he had been waiting to receive.

"Your movements. The reactions. So fucking real." He murmured before releasing my chin and as soon as his warm fingers left my skin, I could finally comprehend the fact that I had been holding in my breath, goose-bumps having risen all over my exposed arms.

He removed his glasses at the proximity of us. He was probably only near-sighted, I assumed, as he hooked them around the neckline of his shirt.

He smoothed his fingers up my neck, running them through my hair and I held back a gasp and a moan at the way they moved so delicately, massaging through my scalp before he rested his hand at the nape of my neck, a strand of my shoulder-length blonde hair between his fingers.

He stared at the strand for a moment and I felt as though he was about to move away, finally, to let me breathe properly. He didn't. Of course he didn't. He pressed his face into the crook of my neck and he took in a deep breath.

He was fucking sniffing me.

I instantly stiffened up, shoulders tense to stop from trembling. My fingertips were tingling, numb. What the fuck do I do? Why can't I move?

"You even smell real. Not like hot rubber or that warm, metallic smell. It's... It's weird." I felt his eyes flutter shut as he rested his forehead against my shoulder.

You would think he's never seen a human before in his life, the way he was acting. It was pretty obvious I wasn't a bot but let's see how long it takes him to figure it out.

I was going to let myself enjoy this, for now. I held back a smirk but then I felt his hand slip from my hair and he smoothed his palm all the way down from my shoulder and when his skin made contact with my skin from where my short sleeves stopped mid-bicep, I felt it. A tingling warmth spread through my body like a wildfire, the way he moved so carefully, so soft and slow and gentle, his hand coming down to meet my own.

He nudged my palm open with his own, before pressing them together and I felt his heart beat against my chest as he rested there. Palm-to-palm. Chest-to-chest. I don't know why, but my fingers seemed to move on their own accord, interlocking with his and I felt his eyelashes flutter open against my collarbone, a tiny, soft gasp leaving his parted lips.

He lifted our interlocked hands, his face turned, still pressed against my shoulder. He stared at our tangled fingers, eyes wide as he squeezed once, as though he was trying to convince himself that I was real.

This was weird. Wasn't this weird? Why was he being so weirdly intimate with something he assumed to be a bot?

Oh....

Oh no.

Oh fuck no.

Did he- was I-?

Wait a fucking minute.

I removed my hand, feeling returning as the fog left my brain long enough for me to actually register what was happening.

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had been in and stepped back, his cheeks tinted from embarrassment and hand clutched against his chest, as though my touch had scalded his skin.

I closed my mouth, taking a deep gulp to soothe my dried throat.

Did he think he bought, like, a sex bot?

I looked him over again.

He didn't seem like the type of person to do something like that, but then again, you never did know with people these days. I'd come across enough people in my career that, if I saw them out in the real world, didn't seem like the type to cheat or sleep around. Everyone had their secrets. So did I.

But looking him over, it seemed as though he would have no trouble in finding hook-ups or getting into relationships. Unless he was like a commitment-phobe. Oh God, or what if he was like some sort of nympho.

Jesus Christ.

I was trying to get away from a life of sex-work, not back into it. At least with my old job, I had a purpose for it. I needed the money. Mikey needed it.

If my suspicions were correct, then here I would just be some fuck-toy with no purpose other than to sexually please a man that thought he owned me.

He was watching me again, this time his hand was braced at the nape of his neck in a sort of awkward way, his brow raised at me. It was as though he was questioning why I had just resisted him.

"Sir, you know if you're not wholly satisfied with the product, just contact them and ask for a-"

"No way, Brendon." The pretty man shook his head, silencing the one that had just spoken. "Maybe it was just a bit of a mix-up, you know? There's no point in bothering them just so I can ask for a different bot that does the exact same thing, all because it looks different to the one I ordered. I mean... Like, what if they sent me a faulty one just for bothering them or wasting their time?" The man was growing agitated, nibbling on his thumbnail as he darted his eyes between me and the one he called Brendon.

Wow, talk about nervous disposition.

"Master Frank, may I give my opinion?" One of the men started. I noted that he had super curly hair and was quite tall and leggy.

So, Frank. That was his name. I assume all these men must work for him then, somehow. The fact they were referring to him as 'sir' and 'master' was a bit of a giveaway.

"No." Frank silenced him firmly. "Your opinion is invalid." Frank furrowed his brows.

"What about me?" The skinny boy in the dinosaur onesie spoke.

"That's different. Jarvis is my butler so I see him as such. You guys, are, like, different. You know? You're all my friends so I guess I value your opinions more than the help."

Dinosaur onesie furrowed his brows. "But, like, I make your food. I'm the chef. Am I not help?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah, and you always stay friendly with the chef, unless you want piss or spit in your food. Everyone knows that, Ryan." He stated, matter-of-factly.

Ryan nodded at him. "I guess... But why would I piss or spit in your food if we _weren't_ friendly?" Ryan crinkled his brows in confusion.

Frank sighed, running a hand through his dishevelled hair, pushing it out of his face so I could see it more clearly.

"You wouldn't understand, Ryan. It's a human thing." Frank continued.

"Oh." Ryan nodded, pretending to understand. "But, i'm not human?" He added after he started registering what Frank had said.

Oh, of course. He was a bot. It was eerie to me how human-like these bots were. The ones i've come across are never programmed to act normal or whatever. They always had those creepy blank eyes and plastered-on smile. Their speech patterns were set to default. These bots seemed as though they were set to a different setting. Where they learned responses, rather than gave pre-recorded ones. It was unusual for bots to question things, for one. They weren't made to be inquisitive.

Frank rolled his eyes, clearly agitated. "Yes, I know that." He spoke through gritted teeth before trying to calm himself down through small breathing exercises. "You know what, let's play a game. It's called the 'don't ask Frank any more questions because he doesn't have the patience to stand around listening to your shit' game." He raised his brows at Ryan and slapped a hand onto his shoulder. "Don't try and put logic to this, okay? Just let me be." Frank sighed, looking suddenly exhausted.

This man was a trainwreck, holy shit, what have I gotten myself into.

He turned again, to swiftly face me and I sucked in another sharp breath as his eyes locked immediately onto mine. I tried not to move, clouded with the sudden worry that if I moved too fast, or acted too human then he'd know.

He started towards me and then his hands were on me again. I felt the breath knock out of me again and I had to bite hard on the inside of my cheek to calm myself down as he let his hands wander as though he was searching for something; smoothing them softly over my stomach, my sides, bringing them up to rest on my shoulders before changing his mind again and smoothing them down my sides, hands flat against the curves of my hips. He stayed like that as he looked me over, drinking me in as he nibbled on his lower lip in thought.

He looked around me, on the floor, removing his hands so he could undo the fastenings and clasps that were holding me in place. I stayed completely still as I watched him. He removed one of his hands from my hips, eyes locked on mine, as he replaced his hand in mine again, a little more firmly so he could help me off the platform and onto the ground. I followed without a word, biting harder on my cheek, before he removed his hand from mine, letting it drop to his side. His other hand stayed resting against my hip as he spoke.

"Did he not come with a charger?" Frank raised a brow at the one I assumed was named Jarvis.

Jarvis shrugged, lips downturned and brows raised before he shook his head. "I don't know, sir."

"Didn't you think to ask?" Frank grew agitated now, eyes growing a little dark and to be honest, despite the fact he was shorter than me by a couple of inches, he still had this intimidating air about him.

This was a man you would not want to cross.

There was a bit of tension in the air surrounding Frank like a turbulent wind, slowly building up.

Jarvis shook his head. "I did not. Sorry, master Frank. But, maybe it would be a good idea asking him," he gestured toward me with a nod of his head, "for some answers."

Frank turned to face me again before running a hand through his hair. "Alright. Speak." He commanded.

I felt my breathing pick up, heart hammering so hard in my chest that I hoped he couldn't hear it. My hands were clammy and I was glad for the fact he was no longer holding them.

Think, Gerard. Come on. Think.

Maybe I should just tell him.

No.

Fuck.

I felt a thickness in my throat and I tried to swallow it down so my voice would come out clear enough. I tried to think back to how i'd gotten here. The warehouse i'd stayed in before i'd decided on the brilliant plan of jumping into one of those body bags without taking even a second look at the address plastered to it.

Come on, think Gerard.

How would artificial intelligence react to that?

He was looking at me expectantly, growing more and more impatient. I felt his fingers tighten their grip on my hip and I had to stop myself from jerking away from the action.

I had to say something. Anything.

"Hello, my name is Gee." It was out. What else was I supposed to say? I couldn't give him my full name. But I was drawing a blank on fake names. Why was it that when you were put under pressure like this, it was so hard to come up with names? Any other given situation and i'd have sooner picked out a convincing enough name at the snap of a finger.

He seemed taken aback, though, at what I had said. Or maybe my voice. Maybe he hadn't expected me to sound as I do. Or maybe he had expected me to give him a proper name. Or some sort of automated greeting thing.

Shit.

Why did I do that?

What a terrible plan.

Fuck me.

He's going to question shit now, and I really don't know if I have the capacity or wit to be able to combat them.

I could see it in his eyes. His curiosity was growing.

"Gee?" He raised his brows. "What, as in like, a gangster or something?" He snorted to himself. "Not the name i'd have given you. You have a weird face."

I didn't know whether to be offended or not, but I couldn't show a reaction so I kept my face as poker straight as possible. I was good at it. I was reigning champ at poker before everything that went down; my friends and colleagues never stood a chance against me. I always ran them dry for everything they owned.

I got my skills from my little brother.

Mikey.

_God, I hope he's okay._

"Not in like a bad way, though. It's really androgynous. Like you were originally meant to be male but your creator changed their mind halfway through designing you. Like, you have a strong chin and jaw, but your eyes are soft. Your nose is small," he used his index finger to trace a line from the bridge to the tip of my nose, "curved and pointed. Your lips are soft and you have a strong cupids bow." He continued tracing his finger to rest on my cupid's bow, right above my top lip.

I couldn't breathe.

He was so close to me again. He removed his finger, replacing it instead with his thumb, before pressing it between my lips, parting them slightly. He looked me over again. "I like your height. You're tall, but not too tall." He continued.

I didn't know why, but at his words, I felt my stomach erupt with uncontrollable butterflies.

Why was he making me feel like this?

"Speak, again. How do I recharge you?" He had this twinkle in his eye, his lips twitching up at the corners. Like he was enjoying this.

What now?

Erh...

"Maybe you could use one of our chargers on him?" The one beside Ryan suggested. He was quite short; probably around Frank's height. Maybe just a tiny bit taller.

Frank shook his head. "I don't think so, Brendon. I never really thought to check the description when I bought him, but he isn't a first generation like you guys. I'm guessing there must be something else."

"I do not require charging." I quickly started, remembering about how i'd read that the new generation bots had only recently been placed in market and that they would not need to be charged. They had self-sufficient batteries that required something akin to a healthy sleep pattern, and needed to be changed out every few months or so.

Frank blinked up at me again and I gave it all I had to maintain eye contact. I focused on the golden flecks in his eyes instead of the way he was looking at me.

"Huh." He started, as though it just occurred to him that I was telling the truth. He must have read about the same thing I had. "Right." He nodded his head and then-

Fuck and then my knees almost gave way when his hands slipped up my shirt.

It took every last ounce of self-control I had not to let out a whimper that wanted to escape my throat so badly. It took everything I had not to grip his wrists and push them away from me so I could fucking _breathe_.

He pushed up, calloused hands smoothing over my skin until my shirt rode up enough so he could look at my navel.

He tilted his head as he roved his eyes over my skin. What was he thinking?

He kept my shirt propped up with one hand, the other coming down to rest against my stomach, thumb tracing my bellybutton.

He furrowed his brows in concentration, like he had no idea what he was doing to me right now.

"I read about that. Just wanted to make sure they weren't ripping me off with a first generation, seeing as you weren't what I had expected to see. I guess I was wrong, then." Then, just like that, his hands left my skin and I felt my muscles unclench immediately. The warmth was gone, replaced with a gust of cold and my shirt dropped to settle against the waistband of my jeans.

"What about a manual? Or like, a remote?" Frank clasped his hands together, eyes narrowed and head tilted ever so slightly.

It took me a moment to be able to catch my breath enough to come up with a response that didn't sound like i'd never used my voice before in my life. "I run on voice commands." I spoke quickly, thankful for my quick thinking.

"Cool." Was all he said as he smiled up at me.

"Sir?" Brendon spoke. "Are you keeping him, then?"

Frank blinked rapidly, tearing his gaze from me and pressed his thumb against his lip, tapping thoughtfully. He turned back to me after a moment of contemplation.

"Why don't you join me for some coffee, Gee?" He ignored the question Brendon had asked, instead addressing me.

I knew it wasn't really a request, it was more a command. So I nodded at him. "Of course, sir." I added the title as an afterthought. If I was going to play this off, might as well go all out.

He was no doubt going to question me. Would he ask for a refund? Shit. If I disappointed him, then I was in for it. He'd call up the company and find out the truth and then he would find out what happened with me and i'd have to run again.

I can't let him find out. He'd turn me over to the police. I needed to call Mikey first. And Pete. I need to know Mikey was okay, that he wouldn't do anything stupid.

Then I would figure out where the hell I was and try to make my way back. But for now, the best thing for me was to hide out here. I was safe, right?

I mean, Frank didn't seem as though he had any crazy secrets... But then again, what did I know?

If I hid out here, just until things calmed down a little back home, then it would be okay.

I never thought i'd be in a situation like this. Never in my life.

_Pete, you'd better look after my fucking brother, or I swear to God._

I didn't want to leave Mikey, but I panicked. I panicked and I ran. I couldn't do it. I don't know why but I couldn't turn myself in.

I needed to be out here. I couldn't be locked away because then how would I protect my little brother? He needed me. He needed me to help save him from the bad people in this world. He was too innocent. Too naïve and vulnerable.

And I love him so much.

The only person i'd ever trust enough with his life was my only friend; Pete, and for now, I prayed to God that Pete was keeping a close eye on him.

My attention snapped back to the present when I entered the kitchen and Frank closed the door behind us.

"You drink coffee?" He asked.

Did robots drink coffee?

I remembered how they had a strong liking for coke but I could really fucking do with a coffee right now, after the past week i'd had. I'm sure robots were programmed to be able to ingest food, just like humans, and then expel it as humans do, except they aren't built up all the same inside.

I nodded once, trying a smile despite the shitty feeling brewing in my stomach and weighing me down. "I eat and drink as you do." I responded and Frank nodded before turning towards a coffee machine and pressing a button. I watched as brought back two steaming cups and slid one in front of me.

"So... What can you do?"

It was strange how he was treating me like a guest in his house. Offering coffee, small talk. Like I was human. Of course, I am, but it was weird only because he thought I wasn't.

Did he treat all his bots like this? I hadn't really ever seen people treat bots like humans before. It was very strange to me. Back where I was from, bots were treated like slaves. Or sex toys. There was no in-between.

Why did this rich man, who could afford luxuries such as an automatic coffee machine and a four fucking storey house, want to befriend robots?

I blinked down into the coffee cup, mesmerised by watching the steam rise and twist and dance before disappearing into thin air. "Anything you want." I responded finally. That was what he wanted to hear, right?

I was growing nervous as he blew carefully on his coffee, watching me from below his lashes. "What do you mean by that?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, from what I had observed. He just wanted to make sure I wasn't faulty. Maybe then, he'd let me stay.

"I can do what I was designed to do. Clean, cook... And anything else you require me to do."

He seemed to take me in again, eyes curious. His cup was raised to his mouth and he spoke from behind it, eyes locked on mine.

"What about... Like... Erm." He seemed nervous now and I could see a tinge of pink brewing under his cheeks. "Sex." He quickly murmured out and took a sip from his mug.

My eyes bulged from their sockets and I sucked in a sharp breath, hands clenched beneath the table.

Frank seemed to have been to overzealous with his sip because he yelped and winced at the heat of the coffee before slamming the cup back down onto the table.

If I say no, would he get rid of me?

I suppose it would just be like with my old job; just close your eyes until he finished.

I had no choice.

"Yes." I kept my voice level and firm, hands clenching and unclenching under the table, still.

He looked embarrassed then, like he regretted even asking, or that he had no idea what he was doing.

"You can stay. Not because- like... You know." He blushed and I had to admit, he looked quite fucking adorable right now. It didn't take away from the fact that he was a creepy thirty-something man who bought a sex bot online, though. "I mean, I think you're, like, better than the bot I originally ordered and like I said before, there's no point in bothering the company if you work perfectly fine, you know?"

He sucked in a sharp breath as I continued staring at him, blinking as I picked up the mug and blew on it, imitating his action from earlier. I took a sip as he ran a hand through his hair.

"You can stay." He repeated, nodding firmly. He reached out with his hand over the table. "I'm Frank, by the way." I stared at his hand before taking it in my own and shaking once, twice, firmly.

"And of course, you're Gee." He spoke as he nibbled on his lower lip nervously. "Well, Gee." He sucked in a deep breath before mustering a bright smile. "Make yourself at home."

*************

 


	3. Where Do I Belong? Anywhere But Here

 

** Three: Mikey **

Pete was watching me again.

Not totally outright. I could feel his eyes on me every so often from across the table. He'd take a bite of his food, chew, look around me for a moment and then settle is eyes on me. Like he could hardly bear to meet my eyes.

I hated it.

This constant cloud of pity in the air around me because he _knew_.

Like there was a sign plastered to my forehead that read _keep an extra close eye on this boy, he's self-destructive_.

I wanted Gerard.

I wanted to hold him. I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist, bury my head in his chest and let him grasp me in his warm embrace as he told me that everything would actually be okay and this constant brew of anxiety and fear and worry inside me was nothing. I wanted my brother.

I _needed_ my brother.

But he left me.

It- it wasn't his fault, though. Not really. I was angry with him for doing what he did. For taking the fall for... For something that _I did_ , God. Fuck.

I felt the tears brimming my eyes again and I couldn't bring myself to raise my gaze from the uneaten food in front of me. My hands were clasped in my lap, legs tightly pressed together, all my muscles constantly tensed up.

I hated even sitting comfortably. It felt like everything I did would be taken as provocative. Like if I so much as parted my legs, even under a table where nobody could see, then they would take that as an invitation to... To... God I couldn't even finish the _thought_. I know it was so fucking irrational. Not everyone in the world was evil or out to get you, I _knew that_. I knew it deep in my heart.

I felt disgusting. I felt so fucking disgusting and angry and terrified and hopeless and I didn't know what to do with myself. I was always on edge. I could barely stand to walk a street alone without jumping at every person I saw.

I felt like I was just existing. Everything was a black cloud.

I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I didn't even want to.

I cried every night and I felt like such a pathetic little child.

Gerard was strong, not like me. He was so strong. I admired him so much. I loved him so much. He was the only person in this world that I loved.

He would suck it up. He wouldn't cry. He'd try to see the good in life. He'd focus on that.

He'd do it for me.

So why couldn't I do it for him?

I parted my lips to take in a gasp of air and a cold, saltiness dripped onto my tongue. I could barely breathe. It felt as though my chest was weighed down by bricks and I needed a hammer to smash at it until the weight was all gone.

I realised I was crying again. In a frustrated huff, I pulled my sleeves up over my knuckles and rubbed at my cheeks until they were red and raw, trying to wipe away every last remnant of those stupid tears.

Tears were pointless. Why the fuck did we cry when we were upset or sad or happy or even angry? What did crying ever do to make anything better? What did crying ever do to make the bad things go away?

Fucking nothing.

I hadn't realised I was still rubbing at my face when I felt a hand on my wrist and instantly, I jumped away, pulling my hand out from his grasp. I hadn't even realised he'd been calling my name.

I dropped my eyes to my lap where my hands were clasped tightly together.

"Shit, i'm sorry, kid." Pete murmured, putting a little distance between us. He was always so awkward around me. He didn't know how to act himself.

My heart was hammering against my chest and I felt the fear and the mortification build its way up.

There was silence for a while. He didn't know what to say. Neither did I.

I gulped and the sound was so loud in my own ears that I felt my face heat up with embarrassment once again. My breath was coming out so loud. Like i'd just run a marathon and I was trying to catch it.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I hated this. I hated it _so much_. I hated feeling like this. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted to be normal again.

I wanted to be able to smile and laugh without the guilt and the shame weighing down on me constantly and making me feel like I didn't deserve to be happy because it was _my fault_.

It was my fault Gerard wasn't here with me right now. It was all my fault. I shouldn't have let him leave. I shouldn't have let him take the fall.

God, I hated myself _so much_.

I was so pathetic. Such a coward. Such a fucking _burden_.

Pete should have ditched me. He should throw me out. Let me wallow in my apartment. He didn't need the added responsibility of some stupid, pathetic, broken kid weighing him down.

I could barely stand to be in the same room as him. It sucked so much because at the same time, I hated feeling so alone.

Gerard had left me with Pete a few days ago, when he disappeared. Pete was an old friend of his. A colleague. I knew Pete.

I should be comfortable around Pete.

Pete was my friend. But I couldn't- I just couldn't stand to be around him and it was nothing personal- not at all.

It was just the constant hawk eyes. The fact he was always looming, taller and bigger than me. And it made me feel intimidated. I was a skinny rat compared to him. I was tall, but I was thin and scrawny. I knew if it ever came down to it, i'd never be able to hold my own in a fight.

Of course that one time, i'd gotten lucky. The only reason i'd even had a chance against _him_ was because he had been distracted long enough and I felt this rush of adrenaline and I instantly knew that if I didn't do it, then Gerard would, and I couldn't have that.

It was the only time in my life that i'd done something unselfish. And Gerard couldn't even let me have _that_. He had to one-up me and take the fall. Now he was gone and I was alone.

The tears were threatening to come out and I was angrily swallowing them back because I didn't want to appear vulnerable in front of _anyone_.

"Mikey, hey. I- you wanna watch a movie or something? Take your mind off things for a while, hm?" Pete crouched down beside me, hand on the table and I kept my eyes squeezed shut, willing the tears back. He was using that tone again. That really condescending tone.

I shook my head, no. I couldn't speak because as soon as I opened my mouth, I knew it would only be a sob that would escape.

I hadn't said a word to him since i'd come here and I felt like a dick. I wanted so badly to let him know that I was so grateful for everything he was doing. The food, the shelter, the bed, the warm shower. But I felt like he was only doing this for Gerard. He was doing it because he owed it to Gerard and Gerard was his friend and he loved him.

I felt the need to clarify that I was so _so_ grateful because it seemed as though I wasn't, what with the fact I had left meals completely untouched and kept the light on all night wasting his bills because I was too scared to sleep alone in the dark. Or the fact I kept feeling the need to wash myself, scrub off the remnants of everything that had happened but nothing was ever enough.

I probably showered at least three times a day. It was getting fucking ridiculous but I couldn't help it that I felt a constant itch under my skin. I walked around on my tiptoes and I tried to keep myself from coming into contact with things because I felt like I would taint everything I touched with my dirty skin. I made sure to take up as little space as possible when I was sitting on his sofa, or when I was lying in bed or when I was sitting at the dinner table.

"Okay..." Pete trailed off. He was staring at my uneaten food. He didn't say a word; he knew he couldn't get through to me, but he eyed the glass and noticed i'd taken a few sips of water and he seemed satisfied enough.

Sometimes, i'd wake up and there would a full bottle of water on my bedside table. Unopened. He knew I was paranoid about things like that. I could only drink water from a glass if i'd watched it get filled up with my own eyes.

He was trying but there was only so much anyone could do.

"You want me to make you coffee or something? We can just sit and drink coffee and we don't have to talk or do anything, if you don't want." Pete smiled as I watched him warily from the corner of my eye.

My stomach was gurgling with a terrible pain. Probably from the lack of food. But the thought of even eating was making me feel sick to my stomach which was a fucking catch 22.

Coffee sounded so good.

Coffee reminded me of Gerard.

I felt a terrible ache in my chest at the thought of Gerard and my head drooped down as I squeezed my eyes shut. It wasn't fair that Gerard was out there somewhere and I had no idea what was happening to him and here I was, safe and warm in a house getting fed and watered and had a place to sleep.

Albeit, I didn't _feel_ safe but I knew that Pete was a good person. He wouldn't do anything to hurt me. He wouldn't.

I had tried to leave. I had tried so hard to get out of this house, to find Gerard, but where the hell would I start? I had absolutely no idea where he could be right now.

And when I had tried to run away Pete had been there to pull me back home, screaming and clawing. I'd left a few nasty bruises and scratches on his body and thinking about it made me wince. I could see some now, on his muscly forearm which was lying atop the table as he crouched beside me. I couldn't bear to look any longer so I turned my face away from him, lips pulled into a thin line.

I had been out of the house for at least half an hour, Pete had told me afterwards, but it had felt like a lifetime. He had tracked me down although it hadn't been very hard seeing as I hadn't even gotten very far.

I couldn't. It was one of the worst days of my life; the day Gerard left me and I was forced to stay here with Pete.

I squeezed my eyes shut again as I recalled the horrible gnawing in my stomach. The sweat staining my clothes as I trudged through crowds of people, feeling their eyes all over me. It felt like they knew what had happened to me. Like they _knew_ I was dirty. I could barely breathe. I was constantly looking over my shoulder and jumping every time I saw someone looking at me or walking my way. My breath was held so tight and my hands were fisted inside my coat pocket and I felt like screaming. I felt like I was on guard and that I had to hold a scream at the forefront of my throat in case something bad happened.

Cars whizzed past on the road and every loud noise was overwhelming my senses. I felt trapped and scared and i'd run. I'd run so fast and hid under a nearby bridge, praying for the horrible feeling to go away. Praying for my limbs to stop trembling enough so I could walk straight. Praying for my heart to stop beating so painfully hard and so fast.

I gripped at my head, tearing at my hair as I cried and sobbed into my knees, back leaned up against the bridge and knees pushed up to my chest. I rocked myself to and fro as I gasped for breath. I wished and prayed and hoped that Gerard would find me. That he would come home. I prayed that somehow he would sense my upset, feel my tears, and that he would follow my trail and find me right here and take me home and make me feel safe.

And someone did find me eventually, but it wasn't Gerard.

I was a coward. I was a coward and I wished I could bring myself to leave this house. I wished I could go back out there and face everyone with my head held high and not give a single fuck.

But my brain wouldn't re-wire itself right. Everything was fucked and I couldn't think properly.

Pete cleared his throat and was careful not to move any closer as I inched away from him. I could _feel_ his breath on me and it made me nauseous.

It made me think of _him_. Everything made me think of _him_. I fucking hated it, I hated him. I hated him _so much_ but I hated myself most of all because I let it happen. I fucking- I let it happen and I could have told him _no_. I could have stopped him but I was a _coward_. I was frozen still. I couldn't move. I couldn't even scream.

This was all my fault.

I needed a shower. My body was overcome with a hot sweat and I felt disgusting. I needed to wash it away. I needed to be clean again. I gripped my wrist where Pete had gripped me and rubbed at it under the table so as not to offend him. I slowly stood from the chair and gestured toward the bathroom, letting him know I wanted to use the shower.

Pete blinked at me and stood up, his knees cracking loudly as he did and I flinched at the sound, my heart beating faster but I urged myself to calm down. It was nothing.

I still couldn't bring myself to speak. It was as though the words were there right at the edge of my throat, pushing and squeezing to get out but as soon as I opened my mouth, panic struck me and nothing but a pathetic whimper would part from my lips.

"Oh, alright. Sure." Pete pretended to dust off his pants and I stood still, eyeing the movement of his hands rather than focusing on his face. "I'm gonna go put a movie on. You can join me after your shower, if you want. No pressure. Just- do what you want." He nodded and I blinked up at his face to momentarily catch a glimpse of his reassuring smile. "Coffee's still up for offer, unless you're... Like, whatever. Just... Yeah." He was stumbling over his words. He was nervous because of me. Because I was being so awkward and I couldn't will myself to act normal for just a second. Like I would shatter if he so much as said the wrong thing.

I felt my lips twitching at the corners, ever so slightly in attempt of a smile. It probably just came out looking like more of a sneer or something and I could feel heat in my face because he probably thought I was being a dick. Before he could say anything more or I could do anything else that was stupid, I forced my legs to move me into the bathroom and I locked the door behind me, letting out a loud breath of air.

I shed myself of my clothes but made sure to keep my underwear on. I couldn't shower completely naked. I just couldn't stand to look at myself. To... To see myself.

I washed myself, head to toe, scrubbing myself until I was red and raw under the hottest setting of the shower. I heard that heat gets rid of germs. It hurt, but it felt good to know that I would be as clean as I could possibly get like this.

I made sure to lather, rinse, then repeat and spent extra time ensuring every last inch of my body had been scrubbed down with soap and a shower scrubber; I had no idea what they were called but they did the job.

When I stepped out, I made sure not to touch the floor, standing on my tiptoes and pressing my toes into sandals left on the mat. My body was pruned and I wrapped a towel around my waist before discarding my sodden undies underneath it. I kicked them into the basket with the rest of my clothes and grabbed another towel to wrap it around my naked torso. I didn't dare look at myself in the mirror as I walked past it, knowing i'd scare myself with the red scratches i'd left all over my body with how hard i'd been scrubbing. It looked a lot more painful than it actually was, but to be honest, the pain felt good.

God, I was a fucking masochist.

I nudged the door open to make sure Pete wasn't around and when I was satisfied, I ran into the spare room i'd been living in and got myself dressed as fast as possible. I felt bad about using so many towels so I folded them up and placed them neatly on the edge of my bed.

I took a deep breath, feeling slightly relaxed from the hot shower, before nudging my bedroom door open and peering out. I made sure to keep my socks on, sweatpants tucked into them and shirtsleeves fisted over my hands as I tip-toed out of the bedroom.

I could smell coffee. And fuck it smelled so good. So tempting. I followed the scent and stopped around the wall that led into the open space that was the living room. I peered around it, watching Pete.

He had his feet up on his coffee table as he sipped on a steaming mug, blanket wrapped around him.

He was laughing at something on screen. _SpongeBob_.

He watched _SpongeBob_.

He was a man-child.

Even _I_ didn't watch _SpongeBob_. I grew out of that stage when I was, like, fourteen.

I was jealous. He could find things to laugh at, even if it was a stupid kids show, and he looked so at ease. So comfortable. So _snug_ and safe and he didn't look on edge at all. I was watching him from behind a wall and he didn't care that I could just jump him from behind and, like, have a knife to his throat or something.

I wonder what that was like.

I noticed there was another mug, freshly made and steaming and _oh so tempting_ just sitting there on the table, calling my name.

I licked at my dry lips, my heart racing. Should I go and sit with him? I really wanted that coffee and it would be rude if I took it and ran off to hide in my room.

I felt like a terrible guest. I had been avoiding him and all he had been was nice to me.

Maybe part of the reason I was so freaked out around him was because of his... Job.

The one he shared with Gerard.

I knew what he was. I knew since that day I walked into his... _workplace_ and figured out, finally, how exactly Gerard had been paying for my tuition bills.

I knew how hard it was to get a job in this world. Especially ever since those bots had come in and took over so many jobs, throwing people out of them in turn and forcing them into other careers.

Gerard had lied to me for _years_. Well really, he had omitted the truth from me. I would ask and he'd shut me down and somehow, he'd managed to hide from me the fact that he... he was a- a prostitute.

Even thinking that word made me so sick. I felt terrible that he felt the need to resort to such a life just to support us. Ever since our parents died, we had no one. It was just me and my big brother. Gerard had to leave college to look after me. He had been planning a career in music, but it all went to shit when our parents died and hew fell into this horrible depression where he lost all his motivation and then he lost his chance.

He always told me not to worry when it came to money and I didn't dare ask because deep down, I knew I wouldn't like the answer. I knew but I never questioned him because I was selfish and I wanted to finish college and become an architect and make him proud and I thought it wouldn't be so bad because one day, I would be rich and I could look after the both of us.

I owed Gerard my life.

I couldn't believe he'd been selling his body for me. It was depressing. That he felt the need to resort to it and it was _all_ because of me.

Time and time again he'd done so much for me. He'd saved my ass. He kept me alive. He inspired me so much.

And it was all for nothing. I couldn't go back to school; I couldn't _ever_ show my face there. I'd have to hide out forever and fall into a worthless existence because my body and my brain refused to let me do anything.

"Mikey?"

I startled, my body jerking to attention at the mention of my name. Pete was watching me, his head tilted in my direction and I gripped the edge of the wall so tight I felt like my fingers would snap.

"You okay there?" His brows were furrowed and he looked worried. I nodded at him quickly, letting him know nothing was the matter when truthfully, _everything_ was. But I couldn't sit there and explain to him or unload all the burdens of my life. He didn't deserve that. Nobody did.

He smiled at me, gesturing at the single sofa across from him. "I made you coffee." He spoke and sipped on his own mug. My eyes immediately fell on the mug again, heart beating in my chest as I licked at my lips.

Pete knew. His smile grew on his face because he knew he got me.

I knew I couldn't resist coffee, no matter how hard I tried.

With shaky limbs, I sprinted into the room and grabbed the coffee mug, being careful not to spill it, as I settled myself deep against the sofa, across from Pete, with my legs pulled up and my back pressed against the soft cushions.

I darted my gaze from Pete as I pulled the cup up to cover half my face and we silently watched SpongeBob on the TV until my coffee was all gone and my head fell against the armrest and I fell fast asleep.

*************

 


	4. Patience isn't My Strong Suit, But i'll Show You What is

 

** Four: Gerard **

"Fuck!" I cursed as a plate fell from my hand and rattled against the ground.

The bot was staring at me, blinking and wide eyed. It was eerie. His eyes looked so lifeless from here and he was just standing there with his stupid dinosaur onesie. A grown ass looking man in a dinosaur onesie.

Okay, I guess he had one of those faces where he could be anywhere between sixteen and twenty-six or something. He had light stubble and his dark brown hair fell over his eyes but he made no move to smooth his hair back so he could see any clearer.

"What are you doing?" He finally asked, his voice ringing through the quiet of the kitchen.

I ignored him. He was a bot; he didn't need to know my business. And he clearly didn't care what I was doing. He was just programmed to be inquisitive. Probably just to keep up conversation or something.

Jesus, I wasn't wrong when I thought Frank seemed like a mess. There was something up with that man. Why would anyone who owned such a massive house and could afford to be waited on hand and foot by bots let them run amok with, seemingly, individual personalities?

Why did he feel the need to keep conversations with bots when there was a whole world out there? He _must_ be some sort of socialite, surely. He must have real friends.

Although, it was fucking strange how he hadn't figured out I was human. How had he not figured that out? He was either really fucking stupid, or really fucking... I don't know. I didn't think he was stupid. I didn't get that vibe from him, at least.

Whatever. I shouldn't even be dwelling on this. I would be leaving soon enough; just until I could call Mikey and let him know everything was alright and that I was going to lay low for a while until everything died down back home.

But first order of business; food. I was fucking hungry _and thirsty as shit_. I hadn't had a scrap to eat in days and i'd probably only drank a few sips of water in that time, too. If I didn't get something in me, and soon, I was going to pass out. That coffee had most definitely not been enough.

So as soon as Frank announced that he was off to have a shower, I ransacked the kitchen drawers in search of something to eat.

He _did_ say to make myself at home and damned if I wasn't going to do just that.

The bot cleared his throat when I turned around and rummaged through the top drawer.

"Frankie wouldn't like that. He tells us not to touch anything until dinner time, when we all sit around the table and eat together." He went on.

I continued to ignore him, groaning in annoyance when I couldn't find anything quick and easy that didn't require more than three minutes to make. I shuffled to the fridge, pulling the door open and then my eyes fell on some leftover pasta and fuck it, it didn't look very appetising but my grumbling stomach could give less of a shit to be quite honest.

I grabbed the serving dish and scooped out a few heaped spoonfuls, shoving them onto the plate i'd picked up from the floor. Thank fuck I hadn't broken it. I tossed the plate into the microwave and fumbled with the buttons for a moment. Fuck, why did technology have to be so complicated? I wasn't used to all this fancy shit. At home, everything was done on a shitty old hob that had to be manually lit, with an oven that had the tendency to either break down or burn food.

My mouth was watering and my stomach was grumbling and I was cursing under my breath as I pressed multiple buttons but nothing seemed to be working and I groaned in frustration again. "How the fuck does this thing work?"

I flinched when a hand came around me from behind and a thumb pressed against a couple buttons and hey fucking presto, the plate was spinning in the microwave. I watched, wide eyed and hungry through the little window, my mouth watering even more as the smell hit me.

I could feel him standing behind me, still. He hadn't moved since he'd turned it on for me and for some reason, I felt the need to thank him. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he continued staring at me. It was getting weird.

"Do you mind?" I muttered, inching away from him and he blinked at me before smiling.

"Not at all." He stayed put, his smile widening as I gave him an incredulous look.

"That was a rhetorical question, dumbass. You're meant to move. And stop looking at me; you're freaking me out." I frowned but even after I explained it to him, he just stood there and stared.

"Are you programmed with an eating disorder?" He spoke, his face so serious and his tone quizzical, in a sort of child-like wonderment.

"I- what?" I raised a brow, scoffing at him.

"It's just- we don't really get urges to eat but my sensors detect a rise in salivary gland secretion. Plus, you're all twitchy and grumpy and your stomach keeps making that amusing sound." He made a noise that was supposed to imitate my stomach's incessant grumbles which I would have found amusing, was I not confused. "Classic signs of hunger in humans. You're confusing my sensors because they tell me you are human, although Frankie says you are not." Ryan finished and now I was blinking at him. If he knows i'm human, would he tell Frank? Does this mean the others know, too? Will _they_ tell Frank?

"...So?" He prompted, brows raising in a quick, mechanical fashion.

"So, what?" I cocked my head, brow raised.

"Do you have an eating disorder?" He trailed his eyes pointedly towards my ass, letting them linger there as he said, "your gluteus maximus is coated in a lot of fat. And so are your thighs. You probably "comfort eat"." He made air quotes at the last two words and nodded, surely. I raised both my brows, completely taken aback.

He didn't mean to say it in an insulting way. He was talking as though he was stating a weird fact, yet I still couldn't help but get offended because he just basically told me I had a big ass.

I craned my neck to give my butt a glance and turned back to him, lip pulled up and arms crossed over my chest. "So what? Some people happen to like fatty gluteus maximi. Maximuses? Whatever."

"Actually, the correct plural is maxima."

Jarvis, was it? The leggy one with the massive curly hair was walking into the kitchen now, followed by the shorter one called Brendon.

 _Know-it-all_.

"Why are we talking about butts?" Brendon murmured as he took a seat at a stool, forearms leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen.

Brendon craned his neck when I made a show of turning my ass away from their line of site. He smirked at me and I crossed my arms tighter around myself. "What?" I muttered.

"That's not a bad butt. Mine's better, but not bad." He smirked all smug before winking at me. So, flirty. That was his personality. Frank was most certainly not the straightest pole, if the way he had been feeling me up was any way to go by. And of course, the fact he'd all but asked if he could sleep with me.

Which I was still a little confused about, to be honest. I had decided he must be some sort of crazy nymphomaniac, or- God what if he had some weird kinks that no human could ever want to consent to. I mean, i'd definitely come across some weird kinks in my time, but there were things I most certainly had to draw the line at.

Jesus, I had to get out of here. Soon.

The microwaved pinged and I blinked at it, bringing myself back to present time.

Ryan started reaching his hand out to push the button to open the door but I slapped it away.

"Thanks kid, I got it." I murmured and he frowned at me, a tiny crinkle of the brows and a pout of the lips.

"Kid? I'll have you know; I am seven years old."

"Uh huh, that's nice, kid." I muttered as I grabbed at the plate and didn't even bother moving to the table. I shoved my fork in and scoffed it down, barely even chewing, as though the plate would grow legs and run away.

"Ryan, your point is invalid. In the human world, seven is nothing. You have to be at _least_ thirty for people to start taking things you say seriously." Brendon pointed out. "What you _meant_ to say was; you were activated seven years ago, but you were programmed with the capabilities and mind-set of a legal adult."

"Oh... Right, i'll keep that in mind, Bren." Ryan nodded, taking in what Brendon had said with wide eyes as though he was making some sort of mental note.

"You're welcome, love." Brendon winked at Ryan, who smiled back at him all sweet and innocent, oblivious to Brendon's flirtatious nature.

There was a silence for a while, the only sound in the room my obnoxious swallowing and scoffing as I shovelled food into my mouth.

"So, _Gee_. When were you activated?" Ryan murmured curiously, legs crossed and shoulder leaning against the fridge, head tilted against the door.

I realised they were all staring at me, giving me their full attention, and I suddenly felt like some sort of animal on display with the way I was eating like a dog and how they just watched me curiously.

I wiped at my mouth with the back of my hands, swallowing dubiously as I thought up a quick answer. "Like a few months ago, dunno." I shrugged and grabbed at a glass of water i'd poured for myself before chugging it down so fast, it spilled down the sides of my mouth.

"Faulty wiring; your hand-eye coordination is off. We should get master Frank to take a look at that." Jarvis narrowed his eyes at me and I coughed, spluttering up water.

Ryan was by my side in an instant, patting and rubbing my back. I always wondered how that was meant to help someone who was choking on water.

"He's a bot, Ryan. We don't fix faults in the system with human affection, silly." Brendon shook his head.

"No- no i'm fine. I don't need to be looked at." I murmured quickly. I didn't want Frank poking and prodding around only to realise I wasn't run on batteries like he'd assumed. I was willing to keep up this charade as long as necessary.

Ryan furrowed his brows as he pulled away. "I'm confused. Frank tells me you're a bot, yet my sensors tell me otherwise. I feel like my system is overriding. Oh no, is there something wrong with me?" He looked as though he was panicking. "Am I going to get... reset?" He gulped. He was breathing heavily now, eyes wide and hand pressed against his stomach.

Brendon looked a little worried and he quickly stood, wrapping his arm around Ryan. "No, no way, Ry. They wouldn't do that to you. Your battery is perfectly healthy and your circuit is intact. You've just been thinking too much. Take a rest, hon." Brendon soothed and Ryan nodded, brows still arched in worry as he set himself upright, leaning into Brendon.

"You're right." He murmured. "But- but they could-"

"Ah, ah. What did I say about overthinking?" Brendon chided. "Go give yourself a little nap out in the greenhouse to boost your system. Get some sun rays in your little solar-pack." Brendon pressed a soft kiss to Ryan's temple and Ryan nodded at him.

"Maybe you're right." Ryan murmured thoughtfully.

"Actually, Ryan, there is no need for that. You _are_ perfectly fine." Jarvis was watching me, eyes narrowed in my direction and I stared right back, despite how unnerving it was to be looked dead on by soulless eyes. Literal soulless eyes.

"Because _Gee_ here, is in fact a human being. I just ran a full diagnostic on him while you were talking." He didn't look perturbed, though. Just curious.

"Really? Wow... We've never had another human in this house, before." Ryan gasped, eyes wide as he looked at me in a completely new light.

"Alright! Can you just... keep the talk to a minimum?" I urged, panic growing as I darted my eyes to the open doorway of the kitchen.

"Hi, I am Ryan; first generation intelligence, of the artificial kind. Ready to make your acquaintance and cater to your everyday human needs, including, but not limited to-"

"Shh!" I slapped my hand over his mouth, pushing him backwards so he stumbled slightly.

"You absolutely cannot say a word about this to Frank. Just- keep pretending i'm one of you guys." I made sure to make eye contact with all three of them as I spoke. "I'll be gone real soon. I just need a little time, I promise. I'm not here to cause trouble, alright?"

Ryan nodded under my hand but it seemed Brendon and Jarvis would take a little more convincing.

"Frank is the master of this house. We would all be essentially lying to our master, which goes against everything we were programmed for." Jarvis pointed out.

"I agree. Frank would not be happy about this. For one, he does not trust humans. At least, not ones that do not work under him."

"I work for Frank." I lied. "I... erh, i'm his new secretary." I tried.

"Master Frank already has a secretary. Her name is Lindsey and last she was checked, her system was intact and not in need of any replacements." Jarvis challenged.

"Oh, did I say secretary? I meant... Assistant. Like, right hand man. Whatever you want to call it."

"Is that not the same as a secretary?" Ryan quizzed and I shook my head.

"Nope. Totally different things."

"But then, why would you lie about being a bot? I don't understand?" Ryan trailed off. "Oh dear, I think I will take you up on that offer, Brendon. All this thinking is making me dizzy."

"The answer is simple, Ryan." Jarvis explained, all matter-of-factly. "More simple than you would have thought, in fact."

I felt a cold sweat down my back. Did he know? He couldn't _possibly_ know...

"He is playing a prank. Frank hired him and he is pretending to be one of us because it is... amusing." Then he laughed, a strange robotic sort of laugh. As though he was forcing laughter at something that wasn't really all that amusing.

"What is a prank?" Ryan furrowed his brows.

"Oh, I know! It's like when Frank asks for socks in the morning and I give him an odd pair because I know how pedantic he is about things being all organised. And then we laugh because he gets really annoyed and does that weird face." Brendon looked at Jarvis, eyes wide and lips plastered with a grin. "That's what you mean, right?"

Jarvis nodded. "Precisely; a prank."

"Ah, I understand! So a prank would be like if I spat in Frank's food, like he said not to. A prank is doing things someone doesn't like because it's... amusing... hmm..." Ryan trailed off, brows furrowed. "But how would me spitting in Frank's food make either of us laugh?"

Jarvis clicked his tongue. "It doesn't have to make sense. Humans do strange things, Ryan, that not even our intelligence can wrap around. I'd have thought you'd gathered that by now."

What the actual fuck was going on?

"Wow." Ryan murmured, finger pressed against his lip as he took in the information.

Brendon cocked his head. "Ryan, really, at some point you have _got_ to stop acting so surprised about the weird customs of humans. Come on, now."

Ryan pursed his lips. "I guess. But there is just _so_ much to learn. It's _exhausting_." He sighed.

I gave him a deadpan look. He was a bot; he didn't get exhausted. He didn't know the _meaning_ of the word.

"Alright, you got me guys!" I blurted, relief seeping through my pores as I decided to play along. Thank fuck for that, because I was running clean on excuses to keep me here and out of the streets. "It's all just a huge prank. But Frank doesn't know; let's keep it that way, shall we?" I leaned in, my voice a hushed whisper as though this was a massive government secret.

"Why?"

Of course, he was going to question it. I needed to make a mental note to reprogram Ryan to stop being such an inquisitive ass. It was actually quite annoying.

"I mean, the jig's up, right? Like, we know, so don't we tell Frank now and then laugh about it?" Ryan explained.

I shook my head, placing a hand on his shoulder as I looked between the three. "No. We don't say a word. The fun of it all is that Frank has _no_ idea. Let's just see how long this can go for. Let him figure it out himself, okay? And all the while, you guys keep your mouths shut. We good?" I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady.

Brendon flicked his nose and winked at me. "Ah, yes... I know absolutely nothing. Got it." He grinned, his voice low.

"Okay, but what do we get out of keeping quiet? I don't understand how this is funny, really. Also, why are we whispering?" Ryan whispered back.

I sucked in a sharp breath and pressed my lips together. "You don't need to understand anything, okay? You're a bot. you do what I say." I reasoned.

"Actually," Jarvis jabbed a finger against my chest, pushing me away from Ryan, "we do what master Frank says."

Fuck.

"Listen here, Jarvis. If you keep quiet, this would really make for a great joke once Frank finds out the truth. It won't work so well if you tell him and it's funnier the longer we keep it going. Also, if you tell him, he'll feel stupid for not having figured it out himself. You don't want your master thinking that _you_ think he's stupid, do you? I don't think he would be very happy with that." I muttered, making sure to keep my voice as nonchalant as possible so it didn't come off as a threat, more like a statement. Although I ensured to keep my eyes on his, not breaking contact once as much as I wanted to. God, those eyes freak me out. They look so real but I _know_ they aren't, which makes it all the worse. How could Frank live like this? Jesus.

Jarvis furrowed his brows at me and hunched his shoulders. "That's _Raymond_ , to you. Only master Frank calls me Jarvis." He muttered, arms crossed over his chest.

I snorted. Of course. He looked the part; his black dress pants and pristine white shirt poking through a blazer, with wrist-cuffs to boot and fancy, polished black brogues. I also noted that he was the only one in the group who was dressed like this and the only one who called Frank _master_. He was clearly a working bot, yet he seemed to have his own sort of personality too; a pain-in-the-backside-know-it-all, that's what he was.

Of course Ryan was in that strange dinosaur onesie and Brendon was just wearing a plain black shirt and some jeans, with socks. No shoes.

"Alright... Well, _Raymond_ was it? Can I call you Ray?" I raised a brow and his frown seemed to grow.

"Nobody refers to me as Ray. It is _Raymond_." He asserted.

Ryan and Brendon giggled. "He gets all pissy if you call him anything but Raymond. The only reason he listens to Frank is because he locked up all the coke ever since _the incident_." Brendon shuddered to add emphasis and sent Raymond a sort of glare, making Raymond blush and drop his gaze to the floor. "So now it's all locked up in the pantry under the stairs and we get weekly rations in the fridge. We only get extra for good behaviour, or if we ask nicely. Like, _really_ nicely." Ryan nodded in agreement.

"The incident?" I repeated, scrunching my nose up and half smiling. I didn't know why I wanted to know, but by the look on Raymond's face after Brendon had mentioned it, my curiosity was piqued.

"Nothing to concern yourself with." Raymond quickly cut it when Brendon opened his mouth to talk. _Now_ they had my complete attention.

"Frank is usually really nice- he just gets caught in bad moods sometimes." Ryan mumbled, as though he was trying to defend Frank because what they said made it sound like he was a bit of a dick for doing what he did.

Brendon cleared his throat and leaned closer to me, smiling slyly. "I just think it's because the loneliness is starting to get to him. I was hoping that would change once you got here, but maybe I was wrong. Although, you would be the first human he has come into contact with since... Well, gosh, since we've arrived. What was that, like... Four years ago now?" Brendon shrugged. "That was the whole reason I convinced him to buy one of those new age bots that are apparently so realistic, you can't even tell the difference between them and humans. I mean, it was totally _not_ because my manufacturer updated me on changes in the market and used me to advertise the new bots in like, a subliminal way. Not at all." Brendon giggled nervously and I gave him an incredulous look. "That's some weird conspiracy shit, right there." He mumbled, clearing his throat.

... Anyway.

Jesus Christ. So Frank hadn't seen humans in over _four_ years? I wonder what that was like. Sounded like heaven, to be quite honest. Not having to see another human face for that long, especially when you lived in a place like this; apart from, of course, my brother and my friends. Everyone else could fuck off for all I cared. This world was full of terrible people.

Well... That explained why he hadn't realised I was human right away.

"So, wait- he _must_ like go out to work or something, right? How else does he have such a huge house, with the money to afford all you- _us_ \- guys?" I murmured. There was no way he hasn't seen a single human being in four years. How could that even be avoided, especially if he was someone important.

Brendon shrugged. "No. Lindsey usually does all that. She's the go-between from home and work. His right-hand-woman."

"What about like meetings- does he not have to be present or whatever? In discussing important matters and shit, I don't know how it all works. But i'm guessing he, like, _has_ to be there, right?" I pressed my hands over my hips, head cocked in cogitation. I didn't know why I was suddenly so interested in the life of Frank... Whatever his last name is.

Ryan shook his head. "Nope. He does all that stuff through his tech room. He usually hooks himself up to his holographic projector and _et voilà_ , he's there. Or if he doesn't need to move around much, he just video-calls them."

"Seems like an awful lot of effort to put into _avoiding_ going to work. Jesus, why doesn't he just go himself? What is he, like an extreme germophobe or some shit?"

Ryan furrowed his brows. "I don't know... I never really thought to ask, you know."

"I find that hard to believe." I muttered under my breath and Ryan blinked at me.

"Hm?"

"So, like, what is his job?" I ignored him. "Is he a major part of the team?"

Brendon snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh, honey, he _owns_ the team. He's the boss-man."

I blinked at him in surprise. "Wow. Some real shit must have happened if he can't even step out his doors to go and keep an eye on his own business."

Brendon snorted. "Tell me about it. I'd love to know, now that you mention it. I can't believe we never even thought to ask."

"None of you seriously know a thing?" I raised my brows and they all shook their heads in unison, matching frowns on their foreheads.

"Well, what about that Lindsey? Do you think she'll know? Is she, like, even human?" Why was I even asking? I would be out of here soon. Besides, I should really start searching for a phone to call Mikey. Oh God, I hope he's okay.

Ryan shrugged. "Maybe. I think if anyone would know, it might be her. He tells her things. He tells _us_ things, but he tells us _different_ things, you know? Like i'm the go-to for fun, interesting facts he's heard about or news stories because I indulge him in deep conversation. Brendon is more for like 'hey i'm having dick problems'-"

I snorted at that and Ryan sent me a confused look, as though he had no idea what I was laughing at. I cleared my throat and he shrugged it off, carrying on.

"Raymond is just the butler and he's basically Frank's bitch." Raymond didn't seem too pleased about being called someone's bitch and he let Ryan know with a glare and a slap on the arm. Ryan didn't even flinch, just carried on talking. "He discusses music with Frances and they play together in the music room, James loves reading and so does Frank, Bob is the tattoo guy, Dallon is the tech bot who deals with system malfunctions and oversees general tech management and also organises Frank's calls-"

"Holy- wait, there are _more_ of you?" Why was I surprised? I shouldn't really be surprised. This house was huge; he _had_ to have more than just three help.

Ryan raised a brow. "Yeah? If you'd just let me finish..." He murmured and didn't wait for me before picking up where he'd left off. "Mitch and Rocket are the housecleaners, James is a certified doctor who also doubles as a general practitioner, Melanie-"

"Jesus _Christ_ , alright I get it. I don't want a run-down of every single bot in this house just at this moment. I'm tired and I need to make a phone call. Can one of you direct me towards a phone?" I snapped, growing impatient.

"You're not a very polite assistant." Ryan pointed out.

"Yeah, that's not really my forte. Especially when i'm tired and grumpy and _really need to make a phone-call_. Please." I bat my lashes at him, smiling sweetly.

Ryan sighed and gestured out the doorway of the kitchen. "Just keep going straight, there should be a phone in the main living area."

"Thank you." I managed but before I left, I turned to face all three of them, looking them straight in the eyes. "Also, keep this little secret between us, okay? The other bots don't need to know the truth and if they do, make sure they keep their mouths shut, too."

"With all due respect, we don't take orders from you." Raymond interjected.

I blinked at him, a smirk twitching my lips. "Alright then. _With all due respect_ , you wouldn't mind if I had a little talk with Frank and he made me permanent key-holder to the coke stash under the stairs. And i'll make sure you _never_ get a drop of it ever again."

There was a collective gasp. "You _wouldn't_." Raymond narrowed his eyes.

"Try me." I grinned and he went through about seven different emotions in the span of a few seconds before settling on defeat.

"Fine- _fine_ we'll do as you say. But _only_ for Frank. We don't want to make him feel stupid, after all." Raymond talked as though he was trying to convince himself that it was a selfless act and totally not because he had some underlying coke addiction.

"Good." I nodded at them. "I wouldn't want to have to _impose_ on what you have going here. In fact, you be good and I might even put in a good word for you so Frank is a little more lenient with his restrictions." I suggested and that seemed to make their eyes light up, as though there was any life behind them at all. Jesus, they were like addicts. One mention of the word and they would fall at your feet.

"Pleasure doing business with you, boys. Now if you don't mind, I have a very important phone call to make." I winked at them as I walked out of the room in the direction Ryan had pointed me in. I was almost at the door, when seemingly out of thin air, something jumps in front of me.

Was that-

"A pointy thing!" I screeched, pulling backwards, heart hammering in my chest.

The ginger, bearded bot that had been with the greeting committee when i'd first arrived was standing there blinking at m. He had some weird contraption held up in front of his face, a small black briefcase in his other hand.

It took me a while to calm down but he was suddenly walking towards me. "Are you alright?" He asked, concern lacing his tone. "Your heart rate shot up."

I gulped, shaking my head. "Fine. I'm _fine_ , erh... Just- yeah..." I gripped is wrist and pushed his hand with the deathly contraption away from me, head arched away and he looked down at his hand before looking back up at me.

"Oh." He murmured, putting two-and-two together. He let out a nervous chuckle. "I guess asking if you wanted to be inked is now out of the question. I had some pretty good ideas for you, too. What a shame." He sighed before smiling. "Ah well, I was just on my way to set up for getting Frank's hips finished up. I don't suppose you'd want to join us?" He offered and when I gave him an incredulous look, he nodded at me, smile tightening.

"Right, of course. Trypanophobia. Got it." He just stood there, watching me, and I stared back at him, expecting that he had something to say.

"I'm Bob. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He finally said while reaching his free hand out and I took it, cautiously.

"Ger-" I caught myself, remembering they weren't to know my full name. "Gee. I'm Gee."

"I know. I'll see you around, Gee." He smiled and that was all he said before he saluted me and started walking away, heading up the staircase.

I bolted into the living room as soon as he'd pushed himself onto the first step, making sure to shut the door behind me as I scrambled around to find a phone.

I felt a little overwhelmed as soon as I stepped inside; it was fucking _gargantuan_. This one living room was the size of my entire apartment, and then some. There were multiple sofas lining the walls, with a fucking swing-set to boot. A huge television screen that took up an entire wall and a fish tank _in the walls_ right opposite. I wonder who fed them.

The floor was lined with rich mahogany that looked as though it hadn't ever been stepped foot on by a soul. Fucking pristine as shit. And a huge, patterned rug lined the floor. It looked so fucking cosy, I could jump right on it and fall asleep better than I ever could have _dreamed_ to in my own bed.

There were shelves lining walls with little trinkets and figurines that were just calling my name but I had to shake myself off from going near them. I was on a mission right now. I had no time to loiter around.

It took me a while to find the phone hooked against the wall but when I did, it was a whole other fucking dilemma. Did everything in this house have to be so damn complicated?

I groaned as I pulled the wireless screen off its holder. It was like a piece of square glass with a little screen printed onto it. I pressed the pad of my finger against a random button and there was a sudden voice, startling me.

" _Please state the name of the contact you wish to call, otherwise press the keypad and dial in the number manually. If you need assistance, please dial # followed by 1._ "

The sound was so loud, it was echoing off the walls and ceiling of the room and I felt a panic start to rise as if Frank could hear what I was up to.

"Shh!" I hushed it, pressing my hand over the screen as though that would block out the sound.

"Fuck!" I muttered as I pressed random buttons.

" _Did you mean 'fuck-face Jones'_?" The voice started and I blinked in confusion.

"What? _No_ \- I- Keypad. I want the keypad." I grit out through my teeth.

" _calling: Fuck-face Jones._ "

God, who the fuck was fuck-face Jones? Probably some guy Frank disliked.

"No- no stop! End call, _end call_!" I breathed out.

I felt as though the voice was growing louder as it continued to come up with suggestions and I continued pressing random buttons until somehow I opened up some sort of number pad. This must be it.

I wracked my brains for a moment, trying to remember what the hell his number was, all the while darting my eyes over my shoulder as though I was going to get caught.

As soon as my brain gathered enough speed to remember Pete's number, I dialled it in and pressed call.

Jesus fucking Christ, what was wrong with good old fashioned dial-phones? Why did everything have to be so complicated these days? That was a close fucking call.

The phone rang and I felt myself grow more and more hot. "Come on, pick up!" I muttered under my breath and then finally-

"Hello?"

I breathed out a sigh of relief, my hand pressed against my forehead.

"Gerard." Pete stated. How the fuck did he know it was me?

"How is Mikey?" I asked in a rush. I had to be quick. There was no time for formalities or small talk.

"He's sleeping. He misses you, Gee. You have to come home soon."

I shook my head, eyes squeezing shut. "I _can't_ , Pete. You know why. I- I can't. I just- I need to know he's fine."

"Where are you? I'll come get you, Gee, then we'll figure this out-"

"Pete." I ground out through my teeth, tears threatening to spill but I swallowed them down. "I'm safe. Tell Mikey- tell him i'm safe and that I love him. Tell him i'll call again as soon as I can. I promise."

There was silence for a while. Then, "He misses you like crazy. He needs his big brother, man. I don't know what the fuck i'm doing. Gee, he fucking- he... God, it's like if I even stand near him he's going to break into a million pieces. I don't know how to do this. He _needs_ you." His tone was desperate, choked and I felt my face grow hot from how much I was straining to hold back the tears now.

"I know." I gulped. "I know, Pete. I gotta lay low for a while. How- do you think they know where I am?"

"I don't think they do." He answered after a moment. "But you've been on the news, man. People are going to- fuck, are you _sure_ you're safe?" Pete sounded panicked and I assured him that I was fine, although I felt the terror bubble in my gut like a witch's brew.

"I think i'm good, for now. Please, just keep doing what you're doing. Mikey- fuck-" I felt my voice crack and I was fighting so hard to keep from sobbing out. I pressed my hand over my mouth, taking deep, shaking breaths. "Just look after him for me. Keep doing what you're doing, Pete. Tell him I love him, yeah?" I repeated and Pete sighed in frustration

"This fucking sucks balls, man." He murmured. "I- _fuck_. I wish _he'd_ gone the fuck down for what he did but- but it's always the good people who get fucked over in this world. Fucking piece of shit." Pete growled and I urged myself to keep calm, hands fisted against my sides as I felt it play through my mind again; what had got us _into_ this mess in the first place.

"I appreciate everything you're doing." I whispered, trying to force my voice to stay level. "I love you, too, Pete. I'm sorry for throwing you into this mess. You don't deserve it but you're the only one I trust enough to take care of my brother while i'm gone; you gotta understand."

"Fuck off with that shit. You know i'd do anything for you. You're my brother. You and Mikey both. Fuck, _I_ wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you." Pete spoke softly. "I owe you so much more. I owe you my _life_ , Gerard."

I sucked in a breath, remembering back to how i'd found Pete cut and bruised, lying in a pool of his own blood and vomit with the remnants of heroin littering his sheets and shirt. I remembered how i'd picked him up, washed him off and helped him regain consciousness. He was so close to death; I could feel it. But somehow, the stubborn little motherfucker pulled through, because as much as he may have thought he wanted to die, it was far from his fucking time. And I made sure he knew that. I stuck by his side until he was completely sober. It was a fucking journey, but we did it. And Mikey was there too, on the other side.

"I've been putting together some of my savings. I'm looking for lawyers, Gee, someone who can-"

"No. Don't you dare." I cut him off. "Don't waste your money on me, Pete. Getting a good lawyer is fucking _expensive_ and you and I both know how corrupt the system is. They'd twist it around so the jury would be in favour of that _bastard_. We could afford a mediocre one at best and even then, we have no fucking chance." I grit out angrily.

Pete knew I was right. I _was_ right.

"But we can _try_ , Gee-"

"Drop it, Pete. My best chance is laying low and gathering time for my next game plan. All you need to know is I am _safe_ for now. God, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." I breathed hysterically. This all felt like some crazy dream. "The world seems to be working in my favour, after all." I muttered.

There was a rattling sound and I realised the door was being pushed open.

"Fuck, I gotta go. Don't forget to tell Mikey- and... and stay safe. Talk soon." I muttered before wiping at my tear stained face; i'd lost the battle a while ago, I realised when my face felt hot and wet.

"Gee?" A voice called out.

I took a few deep breaths to collect myself before clearing my throat. "Yes?" I called back, walking into the main area and letting myself be seen.

It was Raymond.

"Frank wishes to see you. I'm supposed to escort you to his bedroom." He clasped his hands behind his back and I sucked in a sharp breath.

 _Bedroom_. Fuck, I really hoped this was not what I thought it was. I was in no fucking mood to be _pleasing_ anyone tonight. Least of all that strange, rich man who hid out in this massive, albeit _pretty_ , house.

I nodded at him, urging my heart to stop pumping so hard and my stomach to quit clenching.

Raymond walked us up the stairs in complete silence and I kept my eyes ahead of me, completely zoned out. I couldn't stop worrying about fucking _everything_. How fucked up my life was, now. How I could never go back to just me and Mikey in our shitty little apartment binging on old Wes Craven flicks and how Mikey would never be the same again.

Oh God, Mikey. I'm so sorry, Mikey. I'm sorry for everything that happened. I'm sorry I had to leave you. I wish I could have protected you. I wish I was a better brother.

I could feel the tears burning again and I pushed them down as Raymond stopped outside a white door with a rounded, crystallised handle.

I blinked at Raymond and he gestured for me to go inside.

"Y-you're not coming?" I widened my eyes slightly, hoping he was coming inside because surely this wasn't going to be some threesome deal. If he was coming, too, i'd feel more at ease that this wasn't headed where I thought it was.

"No. Master Frank asked only for you." Raymond responded then cleared his throat with a small smile. "Maybe he's figured it out." He whispered and I laughed nervously.

That was precisely what I _didn't_ want.

"Right." I muttered as I grabbed the handle and turned until the door clicked open.

What I was greeted with was something I had not expected. The first thing I heard was a low buzzing sound. Frank was lying across the bed with his shirt pulled up around his chest and pants pulled low down on his hips so the skin there was completely exposed.

Bob was sitting beside him with the needle contraption from earlier, pressing against Frank's hips. I forced myself closer and noticed that Frank's hair was still a little damp from his shower, and he as now dressed more appropriately in a silk shirt and black skinnies, although the way he was lying there exposed was anything _but_ appropriate.

Frank's eyes landed on me as soon as I stepped into the room. His once serene expression lit up into a bright-eyed smile and he beckoned me over.

"Hello, Gee. I hope you don't mind about the circumstances. Just thought we could talk while Bob was finishing up the latest addition to my collection." He looked down at his hip before turning to face me, nibbling on his lower lip. "Do you like it?"

I felt my body tingling terribly, my stomach knotting at the sight of the needle pressing into his skin and a cold sweat ran down my back as I quickly nodded, realising Frank was still looking at me.

"Yeah, it- looks really cool." I grit out and Frank furrowed his brows at me.

"Are you alright there, Gee?" He spoke softly and I blinked down at him, gulping audibly.

Bob stopped, then, looking up at me sort of apologetically. "Trypanophobia, boss."

"Try-what?" Frank frowned.

"Fear of needles or sharp things, sir." Bob answered.

I kept my eyes trained on the floor, unable to look Frank in his concerned eyes.

Frank pushed himself up from the bed and rolled his shirt down, as though he hadn't just had a needle pressed inside him, and zipped his pants up.

I kept myself deathly still as he made his way towards me, standing right before me and I got a wonderful whiff of pretty-scented shower gel. At least he smelled better than before.

"Sorry, Gee. If i'd known, I wouldn't have called you up. Just wanted some company. When you have as many tattoos as me, the process can start becoming a little boring. Also, it was kind of an excuse to get to know you a little better." I looked at him through my lashes, unsure how to feel about this.

Was this creepy or endearing? The fact that he thought I was a robot, yet he was treating me as though I had feelings.

Maybe it was just sad, in all honesty.

He was smiling at me all polite and his cheeks were tinted pink.

"What do you want to know?" That sounded like the right thing to say and he was settling himself onto his bed.

"You can leave, Bob. We'll finish this off later." He gestured Bob with a shooing motion and he packed his kit away with a quick precision before exiting the bedroom and shutting the door behind him

Oh.

Well, _now_ we were alone.

Fuck.

I felt my heart stop as he reached out and slipped his hand into mine, tugging me towards the bed.

His hand was warm and calloused. Ryan had said he played music with one of his bots. Jim or something? I hadn't really been paying attention. Maybe he played guitar. God, that would actually be fucking awesome. I loved music.

Alright, I had to admit he was attractive and if the fact he was covered in tattoos wasn't already a turn on, then adding a guitar to the mix would surely do it.

I watched him from the corner of my eye as he stared at me, outright, taking me in. He was sat cross-legged on the bed and I felt tempted to do the same, only because I felt so awkward sitting with my legs off the side of the bed.

"So, is Gee like, a nick-name? It can't be your _real_ name. Unless it was the name your manufacturer gave you, in which case, is there a name you'd prefer to go by?" He blinked at me and I dropped my gaze into my lap.

"Erh... No. Gee is my name. I- I don't mind it." I cursed myself mentally, hoping my voice wasn't coming out all shaky and terrible. "You can call me Gee." I insisted.

"Okay, well, please don't feel inclined to, like, call me you know- _master_ or anything." Was he blushing. Surely he was not blushing. Jesus Christ. "Unless you wanted to." He added and I felt my stomach do a weird thing. Was this, like, his way of flirting with me?

"Otherwise, Frank is fine. Just Frank." He added with a nervous chuckle.

"Frank. Got it." I nodded, mustering a small smile for him.

"Alright well, hey- come sit here so I can see you better." He gestured at me to turn and face him completely. "Make yourself comfortable." He motioned and I licked at my dry lips as I turned myself, shifting so I was a little more comfortable on the bed and I was now facing him completely.

I couldn't seem to meet his eyes for more than three seconds at a time. They just seemed so _bright_ and full of energy; so unlike the other beings in this house. It was as thought I could _feel_ the life radiating from him but when I was around the bots, all I could feel was a strange stillness in the air.

I wondered if he could feel the same thing, too.

"What do you do, Gee?" He smiled, leaning his elbow against his thigh and letting his chin rest in the palm of his hand.

"What do you mean?" I furrowed my brows.

"For fun. Like, what makes you happy?" He propositioned and I blinked at him.

"Erh... I like movies. And reading. I love reading. Art, too. I love drawing. And music, I guess."

"Ah music!" He grinned and I felt my heart stop at the suddenly overwhelming sight. God, okay, he had an attractive smile, i'd give him that.

"Frances and I dabble in music. My speciality is the guitar and she plays the piano. You should come and watch us, sometime." He offered, half-shrugging.

"Sure. I'd love to." I murmured softly. Fuck, I was right. And now my heart was doing a weird thing.

The more I learned about this man, it seemed, the more attractive he seemed to become and my stupid brain wouldn't just _stop_. Fine, I guess I was allowed to find him attractive. It wasn't fucking _illegal_ but, like, that was it. It's not as thought I was going to start professing my eternal, undying love for him or some bullshit.

He was just an attractive, rich, tattooed, guitar playing man. A _very_ attractive rich, tattooed, guitar playing man.

Although, I still hadn't figured whether his whole deal with the bots was creepy or not. I decided, for now, it was, if only to find a fault in him to stop my brain from being such a twatt.

"What kind of movies do you like? Please don't say rom-coms or some lame shit like that." He blinked at me and I couldn't help but smile as I shook my head.

"I love sci-fi, adventure, fantasy and horror movies. Things like that." I shrugged, feeling a little ridiculous. It felt like I was a teenager on a date and my body was protesting this whole situation, making me feel all tremble-y and awkward.

"Ah, phew." He grinned. "What's your favourite movie, then?" He prodded and I furrowed my brows in thought.

"I don't know. I like a lot of movies... I guess, if I had to choose... Hmm. Well- oh- Pan's Labyrinth. I think it's a masterpiece." I offered, fingers resting in my lap awkwardly. I didn't know what to do with myself, especially when he was looking at me like _that_ with those golden-hazel eyes.

"Ah, no way! Fucking rad. I love that movie. You and I will get along just fine, I think." He grinned. He definitely looked more at home than he had when i'd first arrived. He was in his element, I guessed.

There was a short silence and I felt it eating away at me. I wasn't in the mood for talking, really, but it was out before I knew what I was saying. "So... You- tattoos." I spoke quickly, words running over one another. I felt a heat creep up my face and I tried again because i'd sounded like an idiot. "I mean, you have tattoos. I wouldn't have thought, you know, because of... Like this house and- yeah. I like art. Tattoos are a form of art. Always wanted them but- you know."

"Trypano-whatever-phobia." He offered and I nodded.

"Yeah- that." I breathed out. I needed to stop sounding like such a fucking idiot. He was going to start getting suspicious.

There was a soft sound and I tilted my head up instantly, my lips parted as I realised he was giggling. I couldn't help but stare at him; he looked so young right now. Younger than he probably was. And I was sort of in a trance and my stomach and heart were simultaneously doing weird things, now.

He caught me staring and it turned into a cough. "Sorry. I just find all these phobias weird. I mean, I don't know what it's like. I'm not really scared of anything." He shrugged.

Holy- _wow_. I but my tongue, holding myself back from making some sort of snide remark. _Not scared of anything my ass, when you haven't left your godforsaken house in over four years_.

Crazy. This man was crazy. Delusional. Attractive, but fucking deluded.

"Hey, you wanna see my tattoos?" He raised a brow and I hadn't even answered him before he was shuffling closer to me and tugging his shirt up over his stomach.

My heart picked up as he tugged it up, over his head too and tossed it beside him. Jesus Christ this man has no boundaries. Did he just get shirtless for every new being he met?

Maybe he was being cocky about his tattoos, which, admittedly were quite pretty, I had to fucking admit. God, was there nothing about this man's physical appearance that was flawed?

Well... Maybe he wasn't packing much of a punch down _there_. That was usually the thing with attractive guys.

He sat upright, inching ever closer so now we were sitting barely a foot apart. My eyes seemed to wander of their own accord, tracing and re-tracing the intricate black outlines on his chest and then they reached what looked like a half-done bird on the left side of his hip. I don't know why, but my eyes seemed to linger there for a while on that lone bird. I gulped as my eyes wandered even lower and when I noticed the hair peeking out through the hem of his jeans, I blinked and let my eyes fixate on his face again. I could feel the blush in my cheeks. Fuck.

He was watching me intently.

I felt myself turn even redder as he shifted so he was turning around, his back to me. "I have more." He reasoned when I frowned in confusion. He was now sitting directly in front of me, barely any space between us as he breathed out. "The pumpkin is because my birthday is on Halloween. Cool, isn't it?"

"Very." I agreed, nodding and gulped because _fuck_ my eyes fell to his lower back where the words 'search' and 'destroy' stood out either side, two overlapping hand-guns situated right between, the barrels pointed right down towards his ass like some sort of fucking invitation.

I felt my blush deepen and realised my breathing had picked up and my lips were parted and Frank was leaning into me as I all but fucking drooled over his body.

No, this man was crazy. Hot but crazy. I had to remind myself of that.

I watched as Frank's back shuddered visibly and I realised I was breathing all over him as I leaned closer to get a better look.

Jesus Christ, what a mouth breather.

I quickly pulled myself back and cleared my heavy throat and Frank was shuffling around to face me once again.

He smirked at me and reached his arm out. "I got a few on my arms, too. Planning on getting a full sleeve. What do you think?"

I forced myself to breathe. "That sounds fucking awesome." _Hot_. That's what I really wanted to say.

"Glad you think so." He beamed. There was a short silence as he stared at me and I tried to look anywhere but at those golden-flecked irises.

Then he was reaching out with his hand and I almost flinched away on instinct but he caught my fingers in my lap, letting them slip between his own as he shuffled closer. I stayed so still, forcing my heart to stop thumping so hard and loud in my head as he turned my palm over in his hand and slipped his palm over my own so the pads of his fingers rested on my wrist, right where my pulse was.

He could feel it; I _knew_ he could feel how fast my heart was racing right now, every skipped beat when he looked at me through his lashes and my eyes met his for a brief second.

I could feel his own pulse beneath my fingers and I felt it, too. I felt every skipped beat when our eyes locked, the heavy, fast thump as he inched ever closer and the air grew hot between us both. Intoxicating and hot and I felt myself grow breathless as suddenly, his fingers wrapped around my wrist and he pushed himself up onto his knees.

I had no time to realise what the fuck was happening when he gripped the side of my face and all I remembered was his face leaning in and our lips collided and my eyes closed and everything turned to mush.

*************

 


End file.
